


Can't Let You Go

by glitterfordays



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Flashback, Happy Ending, Inspired by Music, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterfordays/pseuds/glitterfordays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy tore his weary eyes away from the fridge bitterly, still allowing his finger to remain on the cherished photo strip. The strip was one of many pictures he so desperately wanted to rid himself of- to shove them all in a shoe box, store discreetly under his bed, and never permit them to surface again. However, Tommy allowed them to decorate his basic appliance for he couldn’t bear to remove them. He could put the photos out of sight but, deep down he knew, the memories would forever stay in his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Let You Go

**Author's Note:**

> FF Inspired by Adam Lambert's song "Can't Let You Go". All my fanfics are complete works of fiction, and I take no credit whatsoever for these characters. Enjoy!

  
As Tommy walked through his apartment door, he plopped his black, tattered messenger bag at his feet. They had worked tirelessly all day; his bag was stuffed to the brim with sheet music needing improvements and practicing. Other than having to see Adam every day, this was the most frustrating aspect of his job. To avoid thoughts of Adam, Tommy focused on massaging his tense shoulder, exhausted from carrying the bag from the studio to his place. They had been working incessantly on a particular musical piece all afternoon and, hard as he try, Tommy couldn't get the song out his mind. Adam refused to specify who he wrote it about, or why he had such a strong desire to get it put on the new album. The only thing Tommy was aware of was that Adam wanted the track perfect: the vocals, the arrangement, the instrumental parts, everything. Adam always gave projects his all, but this piece was different; he lived and breathed the conception of this song.

Even though Tommy's heart hadn't been in it for some time, he wanted Adam to be proud of his contribution to the track. Occasional hints of tension had been obvious between him and Adam recently but, to remain professional, they didn’t show it in the studio. Thoughts of Adam stung him like a sharp knife and he couldn't bring himself to start practicing just yet. Shrug-shouldered, Tommy gravitated toward his photo covered refrigerator. It had pictures plastered from top to bottom, some recent and others older. He paused as he gripped the white, plastic handle; he eyed the appliance slowly, soaking in every photograph and the memories each had captured. Tommy reminisced, gently tapping each photo as if to recall the story behind each one. His rough index finger halted at a particular picture- one of him and Adam from a photo booth escapade. It was taken a few months ago when Adam discovered a dilapidated, kitschy photo booth hiding in the corner of a cheesy nostalgic diner…

  
\---

  
They had been touring and Adam was craving some homemade apple pie. Adam suggested he and Tommy go in the cozy restaurant and have some dessert. A chill descended down Tommy’s spine as he fondly remembered Adam’s request.  
“Glitterbaby, I know it sounds strange but I’ve been dying for some apple pie for the past few days. I noticed the bus passed an old-fashioned diner a few streets back, and I wanted to know if you’d go with me. Just us- it could be like a little date,” Adam gave an inviting grin accompanied with a playful wink. Tommy's pale face instantly reddened at the thought of going on a "date" with Adam. Without hesitation, the bassist nodded coyly to the appealing request.

Aside from sharing the dessert, he and Adam exchanged thoughts about tour. Sometimes Adam didn’t like talking about tour when he had free time, but when he did it was often brief and general. Tommy had let Adam control the conversation, and they got more comfortable as the date went on. As they turned to leave, Adam noticed a beat up box hiding near the back of the diner.  
“Tommy, check this out! It’s a photo booth!” Adam was a sucker for photo booths and Tommy knew they weren’t leaving without getting in it.  
Adam paced toward the small blond man and grasped his tiny wrists. Tommy couldn’t resist those soft, warm hands and had let them make their way into his sweaty palms. They squeezed onto the tiny bench, neither one minding the lack of personal space between their hot bodies. Before Adam, Tommy was never fond of pictures- much less photo booths.

As the booth began beeping at them, Adam suggested they do some silly poses, “Come on Tommy! It’ll be fun. Just act campy!”  
Tommy was unsure of what to do, since this was the first time he and Adam were in one of these contraptions together.  
Adam contorted his face and, looking at Tommy, asked, “Are you ready? Three, two, one…”  
Tommy frantically thought of a pose; his hands managed to form cat claws, and his tongue escaped between his smiling teeth.  
Adam giggled and his eyes gave Tommy a playful look. Tommy’s face turned red, still unsure of his impromptu pose.  
Adam smirked and teased, “Ok, let’s get a little dirty. What do you say Glitterbaby?”  
Tommy, slowly picking up on the concept, caught Adam off guard when he remarked, “I don’t think you can handle it Babyboy!”  
The flirty comment caused Adam to chuckle. Adam’s snow white teeth made their way to Tommy’s pierced ear and latched on affectionately. Tommy, in turn, clamped a tuft of Adam’s silky, shimmering black hair into his coy fingers.

With a loud “click!” the picture was stored into the camera’s memory. Adam no longer wished to talk and neither did his soft mouth; his teeth released their grip on Tommy’s ear and his lips were traveling to Tommy’s lips. Tommy realized Adam wasn’t just teasing anymore: he was being serious. As the camera was beginning to capture their poses, the now aroused Tommy kept his grip on Adam’s hair, but his lips passionately pressed against Adam’s. They’d kissed plenty of times onstage, but this was entirely different. They weren’t trying to get a rise out of a crowd; they were doing it for themselves. The camera made its final “click!” to capture the kiss and signify their photo session was over.

Tommy’s face felt hotter than the sun as he escaped quickly out of the little booth, silently gasping for air. Adam came out slowly with a grin across on his lips, licking them seductively. Tommy felt over the moon; he was on a high no hallucinogen could ever produce. Unaware at the moment that had been the first of many loving kisses he and Adam would share together, Tommy put an affectionate hand on the musician’s waist as they both took their photos and carried them back to the tour bus…

  
\---

  
Tommy tore his weary eyes away from the fridge bitterly, still allowing his finger to remain on the cherished photo strip. The strip was one of many pictures he so desperately wanted to rid himself of- to shove them all in a shoe box, store discreetly under his bed, and never permit them to surface again. However, Tommy allowed them to decorate his basic appliance for he couldn’t bear to remove them. He could put the photos out of sight but, he knew deep down, the memories would forever stay in his heart.

Tommy snapped out of his reminiscent haze, and returned to what he was originally doing at the refrigerator: his hand navigated through the brisk cold shelves and emerged from the fridge with a cool, crisp bottle of beer. Tommy turned, lifted his bass off its stand, and scooped up the somewhat scattered sheet music from the bare floor. As much as he didn’t want to he had to get back to work.

Sheet music, beer, and bass in hand, he situated his scrawny body onto the floor rug between his cheap coffee table and aged couch. After taking an initial sip of beer, he used the bottle to prop up his music. Since he had been working on the song nonstop he no longer needed the sheets, but used them as reference points when he got distracted with the song. Tommy dreaded this piece more than any other: his mind and soul always seemed to wander away from the song just as it hits the chorus. Adam’s songs were usually straightforward and came from experiences he had endured. Tommy was somewhat on track when it came to pinpointing Adam’s lyrical connotations, but this particular piece completely stumped him; he couldn’t figure out who Adam had written this song about.  
“Maybe it was written about Drake? But that doesn’t make much sense. Could it have been for Brad? That seems to fit better with the lyrics. But still, that happened a while back and he wrote this like two weeks ago. Shit. I wish he would just explain these songs to us before we go off the deep end and start working on them.”

Tommy was well aware he had been talking to himself more and more lately; even if he sounded like a mumbling psychopath, he didn’t care to stop himself. “Why don’t I just be direct and ask him? Well that’d just make me sound like I’m being nosy. Maybe if I subtly bring it up in conversation, I could get something out of him. Why does he have to be so damn complicated?” His soul gave up on interrogating Adam’s lyrical motives and returned to the task at hand. Tommy inhaled a sharp breath of air, held it in, and proceeded to strum. Choking up while playing the introduction, he cleared his vocal chords: he wanted to try singing along. He closed his eyes and in a whisper sang,

  


 _“Ohhh, yeah. Guess it was not meant to be, it’s not as bad as it seems. It only burns when I breathe. Yeah… You saw the way that I fell, but I’m better off by myself. That’s the tale I like to tell, yeah… It’s not that easy for me to say goodbye, and everything in me wants you back in my life. Can’t let you go.”_

The impact of the words packed even more of a blow to Tommy’s stomach when he sang them aloud. His stomach began tingling. Tears formed around the rims of his eyes and starting ruining his makeup; he didn’t care. Tommy was getting shaky, but he raised his voice and sang louder,

 _“Can’t let you go…Feels like the dawn of the dead, like bombs going off in my head: Never a moment of rest. Yeah… Nothing kills more than to know that this is the end of the road, and I know I’ve got to let go."_

Tommy could no longer continue. He set his bass down momentarily to wipe the salty tears from his distraught face. “Adam sure does know how to make you feel how he feels,” he told himself. Still sitting on his knees, Tommy squirmed to get comfortable again, taking a quick guzzle of his beer before continuing.

 _“It’s not that easy for me to say goodbye, and everything in me wants you back in my life. Can’t let you go, Can’t let you go, Can’t let you go… Can’t let you go…”_ He began to trail off again, and started to delve into his own broken soul. It was completely silent in his deserted apartment, no sound being produced whatsoever; he couldn’t even hear the hands of his wall clock tick slowly as time passed. He began to strum again, and finished up the song solemnly,

 _“Oh…Wish I could just find a way to have all of your memories erased, ‘cause constantly they’re haunting me. It’s not that easy for me to say goodbye, and everything in me wants you back in my life. Can’t let you go, can’t let you go, can’t let you go, can’t let you go. I can’t let you go.”_ Quivering, he sang the last five words sans his bass, _“I can’t let you go.”_

Satisfied, he rested his uncomfortable back on the front of the couch, stretching simultaneously. He gently placed the bass on the floor beside him, and took another drink of his lukewarm beer. The clear golden color rushing down to the head of the bottle smoothly touched his lips and tongue; as it was gliding down the back of his throat he hazily swirled the glass bottle’s fluid contents.  
“Finally. I think I can actually say I’m happy with my part. I just hope Adam is proud of it…” he stopped himself.  
“Adam,” he thought aloud. “Damn, why is he always in my head? I think about him all the time. But, I really, really wish he was here right now.”  
Tommy decided to call it a day, and retreated to his empty bed to get some rest.

  


The following morning Tommy came in early into the studio, handling his scraped up messenger bag and slick bass alongside him. Much to his benefit, he noticed he was the first person to come in. Tommy enjoyed the rare moments when he was the only one there; it was pleasant, quiet, and gave him time to finish up the thoughts that plagued him on the walk there. He began to set up his instrument, plugging it in and tuning it. Once he got his bass ready, he went into the other room to get something to drink. He dug through the cabinets and managed to find a bottle of water to quench his morning thirst. Tommy hummed the perfected song as he emerged back into the actual studio.  
To the blond's surprise, Adam sat beside Tommy’s bass silently, fingering the polished instrument with great care. Nowadays, Adam’s presence always made Tommy a little intimidated since they hadn’t been talking much.

Adam noticed the figure standing in the doorway and acknowledged it with a warm tone, “Good morning Tommy. How was your evening last night? I’m guessing you didn’t get out last night since you’re actually up early.” Tommy smiled, gripping the water bottle with tense hands.  
“Uh, yeah, I stayed home and practiced your song. I actually think I perfected my part. I’ve been working on it for so long, but I just needed some time to myself to really listen to it.”  
Adam’s face beamed as if the entire sun was shining onto his textured skin. Eagerly he replied, “Oh you did?! I’m really excited to hear it, I’m sure it’s gonna kick ass!” Adam appeared elated, but the tone of his voice still seemed distant.

“Where is everyone else Adam? Isn’t it about time they all show up for the day?” Tommy questioned.  
Adam broke the eye contact he and Tommy had, and glanced down to the tuned bass. “Oh, I told them all they could come in later. We’ve all been working so hard and I feel bad for pushing everyone. I sent you a text late last night telling you.” Tommy mostly used his phone to update his twitter and take pictures on occasion, but otherwise he rarely used it; that wasn’t news to Adam. Tommy still felt a straining presence between them and had no response to Adam’s statement. Tommy began to walk to another part of the room, set his water bottle down on a counter, and turned to face Adam again.

“So why are you here so early? Did you come to practice your vocals some more?”

Adam intently stared into Tommy’s eyes, “Yeah. My work is never done. I have to get this song just right. I won’t be happy with it until I’m certain I’ve done the best vocals I can possibly produce.” Tommy always admired Adam’s work ethic, but still felt like Adam wasn’t being completely honest. “You never stop do you? Sometimes I wonder how you can be such a perfectionist. But seriously, is that the only reason you showed up this early Adam?”

Every time Tommy pushed a question onto Adam that he didn’t want to answer, he’d try to avoid it. Tommy knew Adam so well; he was such a direct person, but when he was interrogated by Tommy, he shied away from answering. Tommy began to ask again, “What’s been up with you? We don’t talk much anymore. Did I do something wrong…have I been giving bad vibes or something? I’ve been busting my ass to play my part the way you want me to for the song, because I wanted to make you happy… and for you to actually talk to me again.” He figured numerous factors were making Adam disheartened recently, but the musician wouldn’t disclose them to Tommy.

Poorly attempting a lie, Adam dejectedly responded, “I just haven’t been feeling like myself lately Tommy, that’s all. Once this song is fixed up just right on my part, I should be better.” Tommy didn’t like the way the conversation was going; he knew Adam was lying.

“Can you please just tell me what’s wrong? I’ll do anything to help you out, but you have to tell me. It’s not like I’m some fucking mind reader, especially when it comes to you.”

Adam rose slowly and walked over to Tommy, maintaining intense eye contact with the small blonde bassist. “Oh Glitterbaby, I just don’t know how to tell you. I really haven’t felt great recently.” Tommy apprehensively asked, “When’d it start?” Adam wouldn’t reply and merely stood facing Tommy. “Come on Adam, if you want me to help I’ve got to know what’s up.” He motioned to the couch just outside of the recording room they were standing in, beckoning Adam to follow him and take a seat. Once they got comfortable, Tommy pointed to Adam’s feet, giving him an enticing smirk; Adam remembered that was always Tommy’s little cure to Adam’s occasional bouts of sadness-a foot massage. While resting his head on the arm of the couch, Adam eagerly lifted his handsome, freckled feet and rested them lightly onto Tommy’s tempting lap. He allowed Adam to delve into the problems that were flooding his mind, and listened tentatively.

“Well, it started back when we all went to Saint Felix for Monte’s birthday party a few weeks ago. I remember seeing you wandering through the dance area, and I didn’t think much of it. But then I noticed your lips were locked onto someone else’s and had your hands on their tight little waist. I haven’t asked you about it because I figured that you were dating them and didn’t want to sound like I was prying. That’s why I’ve been distant baby. I didn’t want to get involved with you; I wanted you to find love on your own terms, even if it wasn’t with me. For the past two weeks I’ve been mulling over a quote I heard once. ‘If you love something, let it go.’ I haven’t been successful though.”

With that, Tommy stopped rubbing his hands over Adam’s feet. Troubled, he instantly realized something and it all made sense.

“Adam…why have you been working s-so hard on that song, and who-who exactly- did you write it for?” He poorly attempted to conceal his tears from Adam.

He brought his index finger up to the blonde man’s weeping face and gently whispered, “You of course. I was hoping you’d eventually find out baby. I wanted to it be perfect, because it couldn’t be anything less. I think once I finish this song, I’m hoping I can let you go, so you can spread your wings and find someone you love.” Adam was telling himself that as much as he was saying it to Tommy.  
Their faces, pressed close together, noses touching, pained Adam greatly. He had to break eye contact and look away; he had to let go. Adam began to rise, wanting to leave. Tommy tugged at his soft, cotton, blue t-shirt and gave him a mixed look of desperation and passion.

“Adam, please don’t go.” Adam stood, making a request to the bassist, “I need you to do me a favor, please.” “Anything Adam.”  
“Can you start up the sound board and record my vocals? I need to do it now, I think it’ll be the best I’ve ever done. Do you mind?” He choked out the words slowly. Tommy quickly jumped up, walking in front of the barefooted musician. Adam got into the recording booth, a sheet of glass separating them, and melancholically serenaded Tommy,

  


 _“Ohhh, yeah. Guess it was not meant to be, it’s not as bad as it seems. It only burns when I breathe. Yeah… You saw the way that I fell, but I am better off by myself. That’s the tale I like to tell. It’s not that easy for me to say goodbye, and everything in me wants you back in my life. Can’t let you go. Can’t let you go…Feels like the dawn of the dead, like bombs going off in my head: Never a moment of rest. Yeah… Nothing kills more than to know, that this is the end of the road, and I know I’ve got to let go. It’s not that easy for me to say goodbye, and everything in me wants you back in my life. Can’t let you go, Can’t let you go, Can’t let you go…Can’t let you go.”_

Ice cold shivers ran up Tommy’s spine; he couldn’t imagine what Adam was feeling at that moment. He was certain they both knew Adam was churning out the best set of vocals the musician had ever sung.

 _“Oh…Wish I could just find a way to have all of your memories erased, ‘cause constantly they’re haunting me. It’s not that easy for me to say goodbye and everything in me wants you back in my life. Can’t let you go, can’t let you go, can’t let you go, can’t let you go. I can’t let you go. I can’t let you go.”_

As Tommy clicked the electronics off, Adam shyly turned away from the microphone and Tommy’s face; he struggled to stop the salty, sticky tears that were attempting to overflow his eyes. The blond bassist appeared behind him, wrapping his short arms around Adam’s taut waste. Putting his delicate chin on Adam’s shoulder, he tenderly asked, “Adam? Please sit back on the couch with me, just for a minute.” Adam couldn’t resist Tommy’s pouting lips, caring touch, and the sound of his pleading voice, so he willingly returned to the sunken spot on the couch.

Tommy looked passionately into Adam’s broken eyes.

“Adam, stay here, with me. Forever. I can’t believe you wrote a song for me. You deserve to know everything about that night. That guy I was up against at Monte’s party meant absolutely nothing. I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you saw us together. I had only been with him for a few minutes. He was taking it too far, and I broke away from him as quick as I could. I didn’t feel anything when I was with him; I was actually looking for you before he came up... Oh Babyboy, I’m so sorry I caused you so much pain. Had I known, I would have explained it all to you sooner. I’m so sorry. Baby, I’ve always loved you, ever since we met, and I never want you to let me go. I can’t believe you were actually compelled to write a song about me. Last night I played it and tried so desperately to figure out why you wrote it. But now I know, and I feel so guilty. You didn’t deserve to feel that heartbroken. Every night I always look at our pictures tacked on my refrigerator, and think back to the night we had our first kiss in that corny, run-down diner. I love you so much Babyboy.”

Adam felt so relieved, and no longer fought the tears that struggled to race down his freckled face. The kissed passionately on the couch, ignoring the hushed sounds of the other band members making their way into the building; the group gave them their space and went out for lunch, giving them plenty of time to make up for all the days of kissing they'd missed out on. Tommy broke away from the musician’s lips, took Adam’s freckled hands into his own, stroking them gently, and said, “Oh baby, please don’t let me go.” He rested his head into Adam’s strong shoulder and began to gently nudge his silky, smooth neck. Adam blushed and amorously replied with a wink, “I can’t let you go. Ever.”


End file.
